Impracticality
by Branmuffinpower
Summary: Can the rains of the most power tropical storm the seven castaways have ever seen douse the flames of island love? Doubt it. Join the group on an adventure of survival, strength and corny love lines. A Ginger/Professor and Mary Ann/Gilligan fic. One-shot.


**Quick Note:** This is the weirdest thing ever. Almost five years ago exactly I wrote my very first fanfic in the category of Gilligan's Island. And now I find myself totally in love with the series again. Not my best stuff, just some cuteness and what not. Also I'm rather sure that there was an episode detailing the day the got on the Minnow, but I've not yet seen it, so I used my imagination. (Warning there's mushy gooey ness at the end. Not for the faint of heart :D) Enjoy.

Impracticality

...

For days now the sky was filled with ominous looking clouds, drawing closer and closer, imitating billowing puffs of acrid smoke that might rise from a burning building. The heat in the air was so thick it was like walking into a steam room with the door barred shut. The seven people inhabiting the only stretch of land in the vicinity of the storm clouds wrath began to grow uneasy as the days passed, all feeling that somehow it was only a matter of time before the foreboding looking sky unleashed hell upon them all.

The clouds were looking particularly fierce four days after they had made their first appearance, and six people were gathered at a makeshift table made from bamboo and palm leaves, all shooting anxious glances at the others while remaining deathly silent for fear that the tiniest noise might set off the inevitable storm. The seventh member appeared suddenly, head down, hands clasped and stopped when he noticed six pairs of eyes upon him.

"Well," the woman with bright red hair finally said, struggling to interpret his expression. "What's happening?" she said, a little more desperation in her voice than she had anticipated.

"I've checked the weather patterns in my books, and of course we've been checking the radio for days. I don't see how anything else is possible. We seem to be in the direct path of a hurricane," he said with some finality in his voice. The words immediately impacted the rest of the castaways. The youngest of the group, the farm girl Mary Ann, threw her arms around Gilligan, the closest to her age and proximity at this point in some futile attempt that he being there would protect her from the hellish rains. The young man was startled by this action but was too consumed by fear to do anything else but look shocked. The only married people on the whole the island, Thurston and Lovey Howell, embraced while subconsciously clutching their most valuable possessions, their wallet and jewels respectively. The Skipper tried to maintain a front so as not to startle the others even further. He patted the back of his first mate Gilligan, still in the tight embrace of Mary Ann, while exchanging an anxious look with the Professor.

"A Hurricane? In the Pacific? In all my years of sailing I've never encountered a hurricane in these parts!" he said hoping to ease the castaways fear.

"Yes I know, generally any Hurricanes over the Pacific Ocean are labeled tropical storms and are usually further East than Hawaii. The reason Atlantic Hurricanes are so strong is because of the air currents over it. It's a freak of nature there's no doubt. But I assure no matter what it's called, it's libel to destroy everything we have here." Everyone tensed as he finished as though the storm might strike at that moment. The Skipper, however, continued to remain upbeat.

"So then Professor, what's the plan? What are we going to do?" he said while still trying to comfort the youngest members of the group. The Professor heaved a heavy sigh and took a seat next to the only cast member was not at this point being comforted or doing any comforting, Ginger. She looked odd with an expression of disbelief and fear on her face, especially when he'd usually seen her so confident and controlled whatever situation she was in.

"Well," he said, glancing at Ginger again, somewhat unnerved by her expression. "The only thing we can do is try to dig some kind of underground tunnel, but we've only got a day or two, I don't know if we'll have enough time to dig one deep enough."

"Well all right men, you heard him, now let's get to work," the Skipper said as cheerily as he could as he got to his feet. Hesitantly the other three got their feet, though the women exchanged glances as though they might never see them again.

"Don't worry Lovey dear," Mr. Howell said comfortingly to his wife. "If you get unnerved again you just go into our hut and count the money, that's always calmed you down in the past, if memory serves me. And memory has always served me, a great deal better than some of our butlers!" he laughed at his, simply delighted with himself.

"How right you are Thurston," Mrs. Howell smiled in spite of herself and the circumstances. "Come ladies," she said addressing the younger two women. "We'll make the best of a bad situation, shall we?" she said encouraging them to follow her. Mary Ann and Ginger exchanged looks.

"But – but," Mary Ann began, looking on the verge of tears. "Sh-Shouldn't we help? Won't it go faster if we dig too?"

"Mary Ann I think you're too overwrought to do much of anything at this point and besides Ginger and Mrs. Howell need you for moral support," The Professor said keeping a steady tone. Mary Ann sniffed a little and then looked up to see Gilligan, smiling at her a comforting manner.

"Don't worry Mary Ann," he said. "I promise I'll dig really good!"

"Well Gilligan, it's well!" the Skipper interjected, becoming slightly peeved as usual by Gilligan's bumbling and stumbling with words.

"We're not digging a well, Skipper!" he said matter-of-fact-ly. "We're digging a tunnel, didn't you hear the Professor?"

"Oh never mind," he grumbled clutching is hat in mild irritation. "Let's just get to work. Come on, the sooner the better." With that the Skipper set off to retrieve the shovels, muttering as he went, damning Gilligan's high school English teacher all the way there.

"Well see ya, Mary Ann" Gilligan said as he turned to leave. He was thrown off balance when Mary Ann seized him from behind and pulled him into a strangling embrace.

"Oh be careful Gilligan" she cried, pulling him closer to her. Gilligan, once again startled by her actions looked down at her oddly.

"We're just digging," he said cocking an eyebrow at her. "It's not really _that_ bad," he added as an afterthought.

"Oh I know," she said pulling away finally to look at him. "I'm just worried about you," she said looking downwards.

"Don't worry about me Mary Ann," he said smiling, in hopes of cheering her up. "I'm real good at digging. I used to do it all the time at home!" he said.

"Really? Why's that?"

"Oh I used to look for buried treasure. But I never found anything in all the years that I looked." He said with a note of sadness in his voice.

"Well…did you have a map?" she asked for lack of an explanation why a boy who lived in a suburb of America would ever go looking for pirate treasure in his own yard.

"No, I guess that's why I never found anything, huh?"

"Oh Gilligan!" she said, putting her hands on her waist giving him a somewhat disapproving look, though smiling underneath it.

"Don't worry Mary Ann, we'll have that tunnel dug in no time, you'll see!" he said as he again was waiting to depart. But again Mary Ann reached out for him, this time planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I know you will, I trust you," she said as she released him. Gilligan starred at her, eyes wide open. Once recovered, he began stumbling off after the Skipper, vaguely touching the spot where Mary Ann's lips had made contact with his skin. Mary Ann turned to see that the rest were making equally sentimental "good byes."

"Oh Thurston! Do be careful down there," Lovey Howell said as she smoothed the lapels on her husband's smoking jacket. "Just because we're in grave peril, doesn't mean you have to get yourself all dirty."

"Oh not to worry, Lovey" he said wagging a finger at her. "Howell blood repels dirt and germs, it's the reason we live so long," he said chuckling. Lovey couldn't help herself but join in, though she nervously ran her fingers over her pearls as she watched him follow Gilligan.

"Professor," Ginger said, now standing and facing him. "Do you really think this is really going to work?" she asked, skepticism getting the better of her for once.

"Well Ginger, I'm not 100 percent positive, but I figure it is our best chance. Besides we can't just sit around and wait for something to happen. It is human's nature to take action and the reason we're the dominant species on Earth." He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Ginger looked up at this gesture and the Professor hastily removed his hand as if her skin burned.

"Anyway," he continued, shifting his weight and avoiding her gaze. "Perhaps I should get going, that tunnel is not going to dig itself," he said as he turned to go. He stopped when he felt her smooth, finely manicured hand close around his wrist. "Yes?" he turned his head to inquire further.

"And what if it doesn't work?" she couldn't help but inquire. "What if some of us –" she bit her lip so as to not allow the horrible words tumble out. It didn't matter anyway. The Professor, who had always prided himself on his intuition had been able to figure out her meaning.

"I'm sure it won't come to that," he interjected. "And if it does – well we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now I suggest you gather food and water and any valuables and just try to relax. Ok?"

Ginger nodded, and put on a brave face for him. "That a girl," he said before he smiled and left her standing between the other two women. Ginger's heart sank as she watched him go. She couldn't help but feel if this had been a movie, she would have allowed herself to cry and the Professor wrought with grief by the sight of her, would have gathered her in his arms and kissed her to make all the bad thoughts go away. But Ginger was full aware that movies were an invention of fantasy and that if she had cried the Professor would have awkwardly tried to console her with words before turning her over to Mary Ann and Mrs. Howell.

Ginger couldn't help but wonder how it had all come down to this. When they had first been shipwrecked Ginger could not remember feeling this way. In fact, Ginger's advances back then were a means of getting what she wanted. But as it were, it never seemed that Ginger needed to seduce the Professor to get something, he seemed to just agree to things when she asked them of him. Ginger could remember an instance when the castaways had been searching for the Eye of the Idol. The Professor refused on the grounds of its lack of logic. Ginger, who had volunteered to search an empty cave herself, was stopped by him saying, 'If it'll make you happy, I'll do it.' Ginger could rarely recall a situation in which a man did something to make her happy, rather than do because she'd make him happy.

Perhaps that was something. Perhaps it was that she felt safe around him. Ginger seemed to seek out the Professor when danger struck. When on a sinking raft she threw her arms around him on instinct. When an amnesia struck Skipper made a pass at her, it was to the Professor she called. Perhaps it was just spending so much time with him. Mealtimes, Escape Attempts, Plays, Experiments and just plain walking and talking. She recalled the time she had given him a kissing lesson when he had been involved with Erika Tiffany Smith, since he sought her out for help. Ginger could not pinpoint a time when she began to feel differently. It seemed to be the result of many occurrences amassing into something much bigger.

And at the moment Ginger realized this, she was filled with dread for it must certainly mean a number of things. If she ever did reach civilization she'd never see him again, which was a conflicting interest with her wanting to be rescued. And the Professor, as he had expressed innumerable amount of times, had very little relationship experience, which likely meant he rarely thought about it. Ginger had rarely been in a situation when a man did not return her feelings. But in this case Ginger was almost positive, the only thing that occupied the Professor's mind was his books and being rescued. He had shown little deviation from this behavior in all the time that she had known him. Still this did not deter Ginger from thinking about him and fantasizing movies plots that involved them getting together at the end.

Similarly, Mary Ann stood beside her with thoughts of the bumbling, awkward first mate of the S.S. Minnow. Mary Ann, unlike Ginger could remember the day she had first considered Gilligan as anything more than a friend. Mrs. Howell had brought the idea to her attention and she reveled in the thought of having that skinny, adorable man kissing and hugging her from then on. She found herself rewarding him with foods, when he tried to gain weight for future naval service she insisted on feeding him. She often kissed him on the cheek in the face of good fortune and she had even been told during her brief stint with amnesia that she had sought him out of all the men to practice lines with her that resulted in lip lock. She was far more patient with him and seemed to stick up for him an awful lot even when he had admittedly done something terribly, terribly wrong.

However, Mary Ann could help but feel she had fallen into the same trap as Ginger. Gilligan, as sweet and friendly as he was, seemed quite repelled by the thought of anything to do with romance. Ginger, the master of men, had never been able to do much more than make him run away, and Mary Ann, though her attempts more subdued, doubted that they were perceived by Gilligan as nothing more than friendliness.

Mrs. Howell began ushering the girls towards the huts with reassuring phrases that neither girl paid much attention to. They all sat together as Mrs. Howell began to dote upon her first meeting with Mr. Howell.

"It was quite marvelous, you know," she said, as she began to indulge in her memories. "I saw him for the first time leaning against the rail of his, well at that time, his father's yacht, a martini in one hand and smoking cigar in the other," she reminisced fondly. "He was so devishly handsome, and my goodness the money!" she put a gloved hand to her heart. "No ladies, there's nothing quite like settling down with the perfect man –" she was interrupted by Mary Ann bursting into tears. "Child what's wrong?" she said lifting her glasses to her face to inspect closer.

"It's Gilligan!" she managed to get out before continuing to sob, burying her face in the folds of her dress. The two older women exchanged a confused look before seating themselves next to her.

"What about him, dearie? Has he gone and ruined another one of your skirts again?" Mrs. Howell persisted.

"Oh no!" Mary Ann sat up suddenly. "No, no, no. Not that at all. It's just, we've been here so long and I – I – What if I never see him again!" She began to cry again. Ginger began to rub her back soothingly.

"It's going to be all right honey," she said. "The men will finish on time and we'll all go down the tunnel and be completely unharmed by the storm." Ginger couldn't help but feel she was pulling off a fine bit off acting, considering how nervous and scared she was herself. "I'm sure if the storm does hit prematurely they will come to get us. It's unlikely that it will happen so quickly that they'll be carried off before they do."

"I know," Mary Ann said dabbing her eyes. "It's just – I care about him so much," she choked out. "And even if we get through, who knows what will happen? What if someone, what if he – " but it was just too much for Mary Ann at this point and she could not be stopped. Ginger took her arm and began to lead Mary Ann to her bed. Mary Ann did not resist, but merely cried softly as she turned her back to the other women and whimpered to the wall of the hut.

Mary Ann's outburst had created a silence so heavy it seemed as though neither woman would ever speak again. It wasn't until Mary Ann's rhythmic breathing could be heard that signaled her sleeping that either woman said anything.

"Oh poor Mary Ann. I know all too well what she's going through. Thurston out there, with a storm about to hit any moment. Goodness who knows what could happen." Mrs. Howell said in a whisper as to not wake the now sleeping Mary Ann.

"I know, I know. It's pretty scary, huh? I still remember the last storm we went through." Indeed the day the S.S. Minnow was shipwrecked was an unforgettable one.

Ginger remembered exactly what she had been doing that day. She was singing at a Hawaiian nightclub (where she learned a few choice Hawaiian phrases) the night before and was due back again that day. She was already in her evening gown and she brought her make-up a few hair supplies with her in case of an emergency. She had a few hours to kill before going on again and decided a relaxing boat ride would be a perfect means to look over the new play script her agent had given her. She walked onto the dock and saw a young man in a red shirt carrying several pieces of luggage that were clearly overwhelming him as a wealthy, elderly couple followed him onto the boat.

"Oh Thurston," remarked the wife, waving a gloved hand at the port. "Isn't this adorable, it's like having a chauffeur on the sea!" Her husband had a loud bellowing laugh.

"Quite right, Lovey darling. Say there boy!" he called the skinny young man carrying his luggage. "Be careful with those. The contents of those bags are more than you'll ever make in your life!"

"Yes sir," said the boy, seemingly unabashed by the statement.

"You do think we've packed enough, right dear. After all, it is three whole hours," Lovey said idly as the Skipper of the boat helped her aboard.

"If you don't mind me saying so ma'am, I think you've got enough there for three years," remarked the Skipper who seemed like a jovial, good natured man.

"Oh you seamen are all alike," Mrs. Howell said pinching his cheek. The Skipper frowned.

"Well if you'll just take a seat, we'll be ready to depart shortly," he looked a bit miffed at being addressed in such a matter, especially on his own ship.

Ginger walked up the dock with her two make-up bags in hand. She was quickly approached by the skinny young man she had seen carrying the bags of the other passengers.

"Excuse me Miss, would you like some help with your bags," he said lifting his white cap.

"Why sure sailor," she said winking at him as she handed them to him. He seemed to be taken aback by this because he promptly tripped backwards and fell hard on the wooden planks.

"Oh way to go Gilligan!" yelled the Skipper, who was now getting off the boat and striding towards them. "I'm so sorry, miss," he said picking up one of her bags and she reached down for the other. As he handed her back her bag he seemed to have just noticed her for the first time.

"Well hello," he said, with a completely different tone of voice now. Ginger, of course knew this routine all too well. "I'm awfully sorry about that Miss, he's just a bit clumsy you know. I'm the Skipper of this vessel, still fancy a ride?"

"Sure thing Skipper," flashing him a smile that seemed to make him melt. "And don't worry about your deck hand. He seems awfully sweet to me," she said blowing him a kiss and then taking a step onto the boat. The Skipper watched her back retreat until his first mate got his attention.

"Skipper we got another one," he said pointing. A small figure was running for the dock, suitcase in one hand, and the other on top of her hat so it wouldn't blow away as she ran.

"Oh I'm not late am I?" said a young girl in a red gingham dress. Ginger swore if she didn't know any better she had just laid eyes on Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.

"Nope, just in time Miss," said the first mate. She smiled when she saw him.

"Oh good! I was afraid I'd miss it. I've never seen the ocean until today. See, I'm from Kansas," she explained as he helped her onto the boat as well.

"You get used to it," the young man replied as she took a seat opposite Ginger.

"Are we all set?" the Skipper asked to the First Mate.

"Yep, I think that just about – hey wait, there's one more!" A man about Ginger's age looked to have a briefcase in one hand and was carrying books in his other hand as he approached the dock. At a distance, Ginger couldn't get a real good look at him, but could tell by the way he talked he was probably very well educated.

"I apologize for my tardiness, Captain," he said handing his things to Gilligan, the first mate. "I wanted to get in a view of the island before I write my next book," he said as he stepped onto the boat.

"Not a problem sir, if you'll just take a seat, we'll start the tour." The man sat down next to Ginger but if he noticed her or not Ginger had not the slightest idea. Instead he seemed to be extracting some papers from his briefcase and removed a pencil from behind his ear, now tapping the paper with it. Ginger craned her neck to look at the papers. At the top of the first were the words "Fun with Ferns." Ginger couldn't restrain a small giggle. He seemed to have heard her because he looked her way for the first time.

Ginger put her a hand to her mouth, so he wouldn't see her still smirking. "I'm sorry," she apologized. He raised an eyebrow. This drew Ginger's eyes to his own. It was then Ginger noticed what beautiful blue eyes he had. She was admiring his looks when she realized he was still awaiting some sort of explanation.

"It's just that, well, I thought most people took tours to relax not to work," she said shrugging.

"Well, this relaxing for me," he said half smiling and turning back to his papers. He seemed like he was going to say something else, but suddenly heard a magnified version of the Skipper's voice over a loud a speaker.

"We are now leaving the Marina, so please sit back and relax for the next few hours as we introduce you to some of the many glories of Hawaii. If you have any questions do not hesitate to ask!"

They didn't speak for the rest of the journey, in fact Ginger did not speak much to anybody during the entire trip. It wasn't until she wanted to know the time she said anything at all.

"Excuse me sir," she asked Mr. Howell. "Do you happen to know the time?"

"Why yes of course dear," he said pulling out a golden pocket watch. He flipped open the cover. "By George!" he exclaimed, "It's nearly three hours now, are I don't see a scrap of land anywhere. Now just where are you taking us Captain Crook!" he shouted at the Skipper. His wife gave high, delicate laughter at this statement.

"Oh Thurston, that was marvelous," she said giving him a light pat on the shoulder.

"Not to worry folks, we're just experiencing a few technical difficulties, we'll have you ashore in no time!" The Skipper said, though Ginger couldn't help but note he sounded a little worried. Suddenly a splash hit her face. She reached up to wipe it, but soon came another, and another and before Ginger knew it she was completely soaked.

"Oh it's raining!" cried Dorothy Gale's identical twin. "What'll we do?"

"Stay calm please. I would like you all to partner up and head below deck," he announced, though it seemed he was having difficulties turning the wheel.

"This is just awful Thurston," she cried, pulling her husband to her. "It'll ruin my furs!"

"Not to worry, Lovey," he consoled her. "We'll pop below deck and wait out the nasty old rain, and then when we get home I'll buy you a new one." With one arms around her shoulders and the other clutching her gloved hand he steered her below deck.

"Sir! Oh sir!" Mary Ann had an arm over head to prevent the rain from soaking her any longer, though it was quite a useless gesture as she was already soaked to the bone. With her other hand she was pulling on the shirt of the first mate who was fumbling with his telescope.

"Wha – oh you're talking to me?" he said putting the telescope down when he noticed her there freezing and wet. "Sorry, it's just that nobody calls me sir," he shrugged. "I'm just Gilligan."

"Oh well 'Just Gilligan', will you please take me below deck? The Captain said everyone should pair up and I figured who better than the first mate!"

"Oh sure I will, but I'll have to come out again to help the Skipper, is that ok?" he said as he pulled his raincoat over her.

"Oh yes that'll be fine," she wrapped her arms around his middle as he brought her below deck.

Ginger, now unattended, she put her arms over her head in a useless attempt to keep the water off her hair do. She began to head below deck when her heels slipped on the now slickened floorboards of the S.S. Minnow. She grabbed onto the side of the boat to keep herself upright. She let out an exasperated noise as she tried to stand upwards.

Suddenly she felt a hand wrap around her upper arm, heaving her upwards. She lost balance found herself hanging off the neck of the blue eyed workaholic she had giggled at earlier on in the day.

"Are you all right, Miss?" he said to her as she began to steady herself on his shoulders. This proved difficult as she wasn't looking so much at her feet than at him.

"It's Ginger," she said once she had regained her footing and her charm.

"What?"

"As apposed to Miss," she said flashing a dazzling smile his way. She felt a little flutter when he returned it. "Well all right, Ginger," he said. "Let's get below deck shall we?" He put his arm around her shoulder and led her to the door that was being held open by the completely drenched first mate.

"There's not really a lot of room down there guys," he said as the approached him. "Usually it's just me and the Skipper down there. It's where we store things too so, um – sorry about that," he said as they walked down the small flight of stairs.

"Oh don't you worry sweetheart, we'll be just – " she was cut off when she saw that nothing could be more not fine.

"Well when the storm is over," the first mate sounded as he closed the door behind them making them all jump. "We can sleep on deck," he said smiling.

"Sleep on the deck!" cried the Millionaire's wife.

"Honestly a Howell sleeping on anything that's not silk is simply barbaric!" boomed the wealthy man himself. But the intellectual, who still had his arm around her (though Ginger doubted he realized this), seemed to notice a bigger problem.

"Sleep here? Do you mean that the boat won't get back to the Marina today?" he asked.

"It doesn't look like it," he shrugged. "Well I need to go help the Skipper," he turned to go.

"Oh wait Gilligan!" cried the youngest who jumped up and scampered over to him. "You'll be needing your raincoat back!" she said removing the yellow raincoat from her own body.

"Oh no it's all right you can keep it," he said turning to leave.

"No, take it!" she grabbed his shoulder and turned him back towards her. "Please, you'll freeze, take it!" she had an expression like that of a wounded deer.

"Well all right, if you insist," he said taking the coat and dashing off. The young girl sighed and took her seat on a barrel by the door. Ginger and her blue eyed stranger followed the suit by taking a seat on a crate. Ginger grimaced as she looked around. It was about the size of a big walk-in closet. It was dimly lit by one lantern on the wall, there were two hammocks and several barrels and crates taking up the surrounded area.

"Oh and to think I could be in a nice warm dressing room in Hawaii right now," she said miserably as she wrapped her arms around herself to try and stay warm. An evening gown was certainly not the most practical of all clothes in terms of retaining heat or anything else for that matter.

"Here take this," said the man next to her removing his brown blazer. Underneath he had a very simple white collared shirt on with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Oh thank you, Mr. - " she said putting the damp coat around her shoulders. Despite it's wetness though she felt strangely warmer.

"Oh it's Hinkley, Roy Hinkley. I'm a Professor at a local high school," he said holding out a hand to shake. She took it and noticed that it sent shiver through her spine.

"Well Professor, I think we'll get along just fine," she said inadvertently moving just a little bit closer to him.

"Me too."

Ginger's reverie ended when she noticed Mrs. Howell reminiscing dreamily, her hands clasped, smiling faintly to herself. Ginger wasn't sure what exactly she was remembering, as the shipwreck seemed to be little more than an inconvenience to the Howell's.

"Anyway," Ginger said suddenly, snapping Mrs. Howell out of her dreamy-like state. "That last storm separated us from humanity. Could we really survive another without some sort of cost?" Ginger said unconsciously wringing her dress between her hands. "I don't think I can't stand this not knowing for much longer. Do you think maybe we should check and see how they're doing?"

"Oh Ginger, I don't think that's advisable. It could pour at any moment, you might even be blown away!" she said making a hand gesture to emphasize her words. Ginger grit her teeth and looked sideways at the door. It was awful being helpless like his, having to wait and watch.

"Surely one peek couldn't hurt," she said as more of a question than a statement, uncertainty saturating her sentence.

"Ginger I don't know. Really, aren't we all split up enough as it is?" Mrs. Howell reasoned. "I think perhaps we should follow Mary Ann's example and get some rest. Worrying won't do us any good." And with a wave of a hand the conversation was ended as Mrs. Howell started towards her bed.

"Do you mind terribly if I take your bed Ginger dear" she said already sitting down. "It's frightfully hard for a woman at my age to be sleep in a chair you know, and I wouldn't want to leave you girls."

"No, no it's fine," Ginger said distractedly, daring to look out the blinds. She could not see a thing in the darkness that surrounded the little grass hut. She sat down in the chair formerly occupied by Mrs. Howell, and in a desperate attempt to forget about her worries, shut her eyes to find herself drift off into a restless sleep.

Ginger opened her eyes. How long had she been asleep? She rubbed her eyes and stretched, while letting out yawn as she did so. But as soon as she opened her eyes to inspect her surroundings she found something was terribly wrong. No one was there. Not only that there was no noise. She felt like she was in a silent movie, for even the moon's weak rays through the dense clouds make her world seem black and white.

She stood moving her head left and right to try and find some clue as to what was going on. She walked over to Mary Ann's bed and found it quite empty with no note or anything. In fact it looked as though she had never even been there. She glided over to her own to find Mrs. Howell was not there either. None of their things were there either. In fact it looked more like a movie set than someplace someone actually lived. She considered all possibilities. _Could the storm have come already? Did they leave without me and take everything to the shelter?_ Ginger reasoned that couldn't possibly be it. Mary Ann would never leave her here all alone, and she doubted as somewhat self-centered Mrs. Howell was, she would do so either. But something wasn't right.

She walked over to the door, pondering if perhaps she should look around or not. Would it be too dangerous to look around? But Ginger concluded that no matter what was out here, she would get nothing accomplished sitting in an empty room all alone, just as the Professor had told her earlier. _Be the dominant species, Ginger_, she chanted to herself. She tentatively swung the crudely made bamboo door aside and promptly screamed at the sight.

Six shadowy figures were lying on the ground scattered about. Ginger's wind pipe seemed to constrict, she couldn't breath. She fell to her knees and crawled to the closest figure, on their stomach, still breathing it looked like. She rolled the body over and placed their head on her lap.

"Professor," she pleaded when she saw his face in the dim rays of light. "What happened to you?" he moaned, trying to lift his eyelids.

"Ginger," he said weakly, recognizing her silhouetted form in the dim light. "Where were you?" he almost sounded like he was begging. "We called for you," he said when he saw her confused expression. "You didn't answer."

"I – I didn't hear," she stuttered, feeling her heart drop into her stomach. "I don't understand. What happened to you?"

"It doesn't matter now, you missed it," his eyes fell to floor.

"What are you talking about? What did I miss?"

He looked at her a long time before saying anything. The expression seemed to tell her everything. Not only had she had sat back and let them die, she would never be able to tell him how she felt.

"It's too late, now Ginger," he said voice fading, eyelids falling. "It's too late."

Ginger awoke with a start on the floor. She looked from side to side, breathing heavily still not sure if what she just went through was real or not. Her breathing began to slow down as she observed the hut was just as it was before, Mary Ann and Mrs. Howell both fast asleep, darkness still blanketing the outside world.

Ginger began to sit up. _I've can't stay here. I'll go crazy,_ she resolved slowly pushing herself off the dirt floor. She quickly brushed herself off and then approached Mary Ann's bed. Remnants of tears were still on her face but she looked content to say the least. She then made her way towards Mrs. Howell to see her too pleasantly sleeping a wad of cash cradled in her arms.

"Don't worry girls, I'll only be a minute," Ginger said as she slipped out the door certain that what she was saying was the truth.

...

"Wow Skipper, look how deep this hole is getting!" Gilligan said excitedly as he continued shoveling away. He had been happily working all day, occasionally humming and whistling without a care in the world as it seemed.

"Not quite deep enough," the Professor informed, as he too struck a spade in the Earth. "And I suspect it needs to be a little wider if we want it to fit all seven of us." He had devised a very simplistic design. Three men would be assigned to dig a hole a few feet down and then begin to dig from one side or the other to create a tunnel under the Earth. The fourth would work on a ladder so as to make getting into said hole much easier and safer. The Professor was relatively sure that all the ex-passengers of the S.S. Minnow would be safe from any harm, protected by a layer of one of the oldest substances, Earth.

"Yeah," Gilligan said, half laughing to himself. "Especially since the Skipper –"

"Oh shut up and dig," the older man smacked him hard on the back of the head. Gilligan, used to this sort of gesture, brushed it off and continued work happily. He shoveled dirt out of the hole with quick successive movements, not realizing as he did so that his dirt was landing where the Skipper had been trying to remove dirt himself. The captain grimaced at his first mate before slapping him on he back of the head again.

"Gilligan, would you cut that out?!" he snapped at the bewildered young man.

"What'd I do Skipper?" he seemed not only confused but a little hurt as well. His expressive mirrored that of a doe.

"Oh never you mind, just get up there and help Mr. Howell with the ladder, all right?" his voice softened at the look Gilligan had given him. "Come on, I'll help you up," he said pulling Gilligan forward. Gilligan's nature was to not take anything the Skipper said too seriously, or anyone for that matter, and allowed himself to return to his cheerful state.

"Sure thing, Skipper," Gilligan replied as he got on the other man's shoulders.

"Hey Mr. Howell," said as he peaked over the top of the hole to see Mr. Howell sitting besides shoots of bamboo and rope. "How's the ladder coming?"

"Oh not well at all my boy! I mean I'm a supervisor for heaven's sake not a slave!" he said in outrage.

"Mr. Howell, we've all got to help out so we don't get blown away by the gigantic storm. You don't want that do you?" he said pulling himself out of the hole and plopping himself down next to the surly millionaire.

"Well no, I suppose not. I just keep thinking about poor Lovey, all frightened without me to comfort her. We often count the money together when we feel poorly. Aha by god that's clever! I must write that down," he said searching for a pen and paper. After he conceded to mentally store the joke he sighed, "Lovey would have thought that terribly witty. I tell you I just can't stand thinking her counting the money all alone."

"Oh she's not alone, she's got Ginger and Mary Ann with her."

"My boy, that's precisely what I'm worried about," he said letting out a hearty chuckle. Gilligan gave a weak laugh before gathering some of the bamboo shoots together. He had a feeling that this ladder would not be finished if he didn't do all the work himself. He worked in quiet for the next hour or so with Mr. Howell yelling certain "directions" every now and again, those of including "Gilligan would you be a dear and stand right there, oh yes thank you son, might've gotten heat stroke you know."

"We're just about done," the Professor called from down in the tunnel, now about stretching six feet or so seven feet under the surface. The tunnel, five feet wide and tall, would not be ideal for the storm, but the Professor figure they could make due. "We'll be needing that ladder soon!"

"Come on Mr. Howell, we've got to finish this ladder," Gilligan moaned, nearly completed as began to tie the another palm leaf rope around the bamboo posts.

"Patience dear boy!" Mr. Howell rang out, pumping his fist. "A virtue you must learn if you ever wish to be successful."

"Does being successful mean spitting when you talk, Mr. Howell, I'm soaked," Gilligan said wiping the wetness from his cheek. Mr. Howell drew himself up with indignation.

"A Howell wouldn't be caught dead spitting! Howells don't even have the ability to salivate! The nerve! The absolute gall!!" he said clearly offended, folding his arms and pointing his nose in the air.

"Well something's got on my face all right," Gilligan said. "Hey, look! There's some on my shoulder too!" he said spotting a dark red circle on an otherwise lighter red shirt. "And look there's some on you too, Mr. Howell!" he pointed to Mr. Howell's navy blue captain hat he wore only when he was "seaworthy" (he had a good chuckle about the sea not being worthy of him, to which nobody but Lovey laughed). The millionaire removed the hat and examined the moisture on the black plastic brim.

"What the dickens?" he exclaimed wiping up the liquid with his finger. "Where did this liquid offender come – " but Mr. Howell was silenced but a deafening crack as a lightning bolt streaked across the darkened sky sending jagged lines of light in every direction.

"By god," gawked the stunned Mr. Howell. Not a moment later rain pelted angrily towards the ground, saturating every inch of the ground below with moisture in mere seconds. The men were all frozen gazing upwards at the sky with terror. Suddenly the Professor snapped his eyes away and started shouting directions over the sounds of the wind and rain.

"Mr. Howell! Gilligan! Help us out of here!" he demanded. The millionaire and first mate exchanged nervous glances before tentatively approached the edge of the hole. They merely looked at him.

"What are you doing?! We've got to go get the women! The storm has already stared!" he said in disbelief.

'Well it's just that…there's so much mud, it would be terribly dir-"

"Mr. Howell, there's no time for that pettiness!! Get us out of here now!"

"All right, all right, old man," Mr. Howell said, getting to his knees, disgusted expression on his face. "Don't get your money in a knot!" he said extending his hand into the hole. "Gilligan, my boy, you too!" he shouted at the still standing young man.

"Oh Mr. Howell, you know what happens with me and mud," he said clasping his hands together nervously. "I always mess things up."

"Quite right boy, you go on ahead and get the ladies then will you," he said as the Professor reached up and grabbed his wrist. Gilligan nodded fiercely, giving the impression of an over sized bobble-head doll before taking off, yelling "Mary Ann, Ginger, Mrs. Howell, there's a storm, there's a storm!" The Skipper frowned at this, remarking just to himself that he very sincerely doubted that any of the women could not tell there was a storm.

"Come on now Professor, put your legs into it for heaven's sakes man!" Mr. Howell said as he fruitlessly tried to lift the Professor out of the hole.

"I'm trying!" he said irritably. "The mud is so slick, I can't get a grip! If you had just finished the ladder like I asked you," he was cut off as a shoe slipped on the edge of the mud-covered wall.

"I'll give you a boost, Professor," the Skipper said approaching from behind. "Here get on to my shoulders," he said bending down so the Professor could get his leg up. Mr. Howell gave a great heave and the Professor jetted up out of the hole on to the wet dirt, while Mr. Howell lost his balance and tumbled backwards.

"Oh for heavens sake!" said the exasperated Howell, as he examined the damage. "My best one too!" he shook his head as the Professor helped him rise.

"Listen Skipper, there's not much time, just stay here and hold this flashlight so we'll able to find you again, all right," he said tossing the flashlight down towards the Skipper.

"All right Professor, hurry up though! It's getting pretty bad out there." He called over the howling of the wind.

"We will, come on Mr. Howell!" He said grabbing Mr. Howell's arm and breaking into a sprint.

"This is bad," the Professor said looking back. "It's much sooner than I anticipated. We should have had much more time."

"Oh dear," said an unusually lost for words Mr. Howell said. "I do hope Lovey is all right," he said finally struggling to keep up with the Professor's youthful strides.

In the distance he spotted three figures approaching. "Oh good," the Professor said stopping short, panting. "The girls are safe."

"Oh Lovey!" Mr. Howell as Mrs. Howell's soaked form came jogging out of the darkness into his arms. "I was so worried about you darling!" he said as she threw her arms around him.

"Oh Thurston, it was absolutely dreadful!" She said pulling herself closer. He noticed her make up was smearing in the rain and that her furs hung limp and lifeless around her shoulders, yet he had never seen her more beautiful. "Never leave me again!" she cried.

"Never Lovey, never," he said reassuringly. The Professor, not wanting to intrude on their moment turned to the two figures drawing closer. He saw a soaking wet Mary Ann and Gilligan, his arm protectively around her, her arms around his midriff looking both scared yet relieved at the sight of the Professor and Mr. Howell.

"Oh thank goodness you're both all right!" Mary Ann exclaimed, not letting her arms leave the comfort of Gilligan. "But where's the Skipper?" she said alarmed suddenly.

"Oh he's fine, he's just decided to wait in the tunnel so we could find our way back to it," he explained. "But I don't understand," he said suddenly. "Where is Ginger?" Mary Ann's eyes widened and Mrs. Howell's head turned as though she had first noticed he was there.

"What do you mean 'where is she?' We thought she was with you."

"What do you mean with me?! Why would she be with me?" he said unable to totally keep the panic out of his voice.

"When we woke up, she was gone! We thought she had gone to check on you!" Mary Ann cried desperately.

"Well she absolutely did not!" Mr. Howell insisted, pulling Lovey closer as though she might slip away into the night. "I'm sure I would have noticed," Lovey shot him a glare. "Or at least one of us would have," he corrected himself.

"Oh no!" Mary Ann looked as though she were going to cry again. "What are we going to do? We've got to find her!"

"Now don't panic! Stay calm. Mr. Howell and Gilligan! Take the women back to the Skipper and keep them safe, ok? I'll find Ginger," he said, though he didn't sound entirely sure of himself.

"Oh no Professor," Mary Ann said stepping away from Gilligan for the first time. "We'll all help, you can't do it alone," she insisted.

"Mary Ann," he said reasonably. "I won't put any one else in danger. You have to stay safe until the storm is over." He gave her a push on her should as though to urge her to get back to the Skipper, but Mary Ann would not budge.

"What about you?" she asked. "What about your safety?"

"I promise I'll be fine. I've scouted this island a thousand times and I'm familiar with probability and weather patterns. You're the ones who are in danger! You all have to get out of here now! There's not much time!" he said pushing them all along. Mr. Howell and Mrs. Howell did not need to be told twice, they scurried off as fast as their hundred dollar shoes would take them. Mary Ann and Gilligan just looked at each other, debating their course of action.

"This isn't a request! It's survival! Get out of here!" he shouted over a particularly loud gust of wind. Mary Ann grabbed Gilligan's hand and looked uncertainly at him.

"C'mon Mary Ann. The Professor is a smart guy. If anyone can find Ginger he can," he said taking her other hand as a means of reassurance. Mary Ann looked back at the Professor, now completely drenched from head to toe, anxious looking and scared, very uncharacteristic of the normally controlled and calm man she had grown accustomed. But she could see something underneath all of the fear that made Mary Ann certain he would be successful. Gilligan was right. If anyone could find her, the Professor could.

"I know," she said. "All right let's go," she said looping her arms around him again and taking off into the night, only looking back once to see the Professor tear off into the wilderness, an expression of what she could only describe as heartbreak on his face.

"Ginger!! Ginger!" he called, though he very much doubted that about the rain, wind and occasional lighting strikes that anyone could hear him lest they stood within five feet of him. It had been at least a half an hour since he had started his search, though it had felt like hours. Everything began to run together, the plants and sky mingled into one tangled mess of darkness, he was certain even if he had seen Ginger he wouldn't have been able to differentiate her from anything else.

A lightning bolt tore across the sky lighting up the jungle before him. Something suddenly caught his eye. Whitish, something silky and shiny appeared before him as another lightning bolt illuminated the surrounding area again. He rushed over to where it was and picked it up in his hands. It was material, and he had no doubt that it was from one of Ginger's gowns. He gave it a tug to find that it was trapped under a fallen tree. He sighed, sitting himself on the fallen tree.

"I'm sorry Ginger," he said aloud, feeling defeated. "I guess in my head I knew it was pointless…but" he sighed again. He wasn't sure what to do now. He couldn't go back without her, but at this point he knew the chance of finding her was as slim a chance of them being rescued. It was hopeless.

"Professor…" a weak voice sounded behind the seated figured. He sat up straight up as though he couldn't believe it. He turned to find that the silky white material continued on the other side. But this material was attached to a very shapely female form that was lying on he ground, back to him but eyes right on him.

"Ginger! What on Earth – " he exclaimed jumping over the fallen tree to her side. "What happened here?" he said unable to find words to express anything else.

"Oh god, it _is_ you!" she put her arms around his neck and lifted herself off the ground a little bit. "I thought I was just imagining you were here! Oh I'm sorry I left, but I just couldn't stay in there not knowing," she explained still clinging to him. "It was so dark I couldn't see anything! I guess I got lost and I was about to head back when this tree fell over! I jumped out the way only just in time but it caught my dress," her voice was now breaking. "and – and I didn't know what to do! Thank god you found me," she said again squeezing a little tighter.

"It's ok," he said, stroking her back. "You're safe now. I'll get you out of here." He looked down to see where the dress had snagged. He could not think of a worse spot. The material was gathered under the trunk at the very top of her leg. He knew there was no other way but to cut it.

"Come on, I'm going to have to cut this," he said as she very slowly released him.

"But this is my favorite dress!" she said putting a hand up to stop him.

"For heaven's sake Ginger, it's your dress or your life!" She frowned, slowly lowering her hand. "All right," he said. "This'll only take a second." He ripped the dress at the site and Ginger cringed as the sound reached her ears. He tried his best not to look at her nearly bare legs as began to stand up.

"There that should do it," he said extending his hand to help her to her feet. Ginger looked sadly down at the remains of her dress putting her arms over where they once covered.

"Oh my dress," she whimpered sadly.

"Ginger, we haven't got time for this!" he said grabbing her hands and jerking her upward. She stumbled a little and he steadied her, while observing the skies overhead.

"We'll never get back in time!" he called to her. "Come on we'll take shelter in a cave I passed on the way here until the storm blows over." He grabbed her wrist and began sprinting towards the refuge of the cave. Ginger tried to keep up with the Professor but her heels in the wet mud slowed her down and with the Professor pulling on her wrist and the mud pulling on her heels it was a wonder the poor woman didn't topple over.

"Slow down," she said tugging her hand back, looking down on her mud covered feet.

"Ginger there's no time! Now come on!" he pulled her towards him and promptly swept her up into his arms and took off.

"Professor, for goodness sake, I able perfectly capable of walking!" Ginger said indignantly, though not allowing herself to remove her arms from his neck.

"I know it," he said not distracted from he task at hand. "But at the rate you're going we'll be struck by lightning before we get there!" Ginger made a humphing noise, but did not protest further. Indeed the Professor was right, they reached the cave in a few moments later, the whole time he tried to look ahead instead of down. He was certain if he saw Ginger in his arms right now he would lose his mind.

He settled Ginger on the floor when the reached the mouth of the cave but promptly grabbed her wrist to lead her into it further. "We'll be safer the deeper in we go," he said, before realizing the double entendre he had made. He mentally chastised himself for even thinking such things, but Ginger did not even seem to notice. She followed obediently, though she looked apprehensive as it grew darker the further in they went.

"Well I guess this is far enough," the Professor said stopping abruptly when he could see no longer.

"OH!" Ginger shrieked as she walked right into him causing him to fall over in the darkness. "Oh Professor! I'm so sorry!" she said as she knelt down to help him up. "I didn't see you! In fact I still can't see you! Where are you?" she reached her arms out.

"It's all right Ginger, my fault entirely," he put hand out and felt something soft. "Ginger is that you?" he said. Ginger didn't answer at first. "Ginger?" he repeated at her silence.

"Yes it's me," she said, though she sounded somewhat distant. He felt her hand find his arm and pull him up.

"Heh thanks," he said chuckling lightly to himself. "Luckily I've got some matches around here somewhere," he said as he slipped a hand into his shirt pocket. "What was that I touched by the way," he said absent mindedly as he searched for the matches.

"Um…my knee," Ginger said somewhat hesitantly. The Professor didn't seem to hear her at first; he was still rummaging for his through his pockets.

"Ah here they are!" he said pulling the matches out to show her, even though she could not see them. "What was that you said?" he said fumbling in the dark to remove one.

"I said it…it was my knee that you…um…touched," she said he words as though she were hiding a secret from him.

"What? I didn't feel any bone – " he suddenly took her meaning. His shock caused him to drop the matches.

"Oh!" Ginger cried hearing the pack hit the floor. She bent down to feel the floor as the Professor did the same.

"I'm – I'm so sorry Ginger," he said trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. "I – I swear I had no idea – "

"It's not your fault," Ginger said sincerely. "It's not as though you meant to," she sounded strangely melancholy when she said this though, which the Professor found entirely odd. He thought she'd be furious. He looked up to look at her, but he could only make out a very faint outline now that his eyes were growing accustomed to the dark.

"Yes well, how about those matches?" he said eager to change the subject. The felt the bottom of the cave floor occasionally brushing hands or shoulders, though they searched in silence, too embarrassed to trust themselves to speak.

"Got it!" they said together as their hands closed on the same spot. "Er…I'll take it," he said slipping his hand away from Ginger's. His nervousness made it harder for him to strike the match, but in a moment the cave was filled with a small light that illuminated just enough. Ginger was standing in front of him, her ripped dress barely covering her, completely soaked making the material diaphanous. The Professor didn't allow himself to stare. Instead he saw her face, quite lovely despite the wet red hair dangling around it.

"Well there we go," he said tried to laugh but it died on his lips. "If we could find a stick of some sort we could make a torch," he said looking down at the floor. He noticed one by her feet but was tempted to let his eyes wander up her legs that were shining in the match's light. He mentally slapped himself.

"There's one by your feet," he said pointing to it. Ginger made a sound of realization and bent over to pick it up.

"Here," she said extending the branch towards him. He hadn't completely recovered, when he reached oh for it, he accidentally brushed her hand, sending sparks through his body. He physically flinched, though he doubted she saw because she had taken a seat on a rather large bolder by the wall and seemed to be listening to the distant sounds of the storm.

When he was satisfied with the torch he carefully put the stick in the dirt next to Ginger and took a seat on the cave floor beside her. He noticed now she had put her arms over her legs and realized how little she had on. He stared down himself and frowned. He began to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?" she asked when she noticed him doing this. She bit her lip, she was staring at him as he did it and he looked embarrassed.

"You can wear this and use the remnants of your dress as a means of covering your legs, all right," he said handing the dripping shirt. Ginger's gaze softened as he said this.

"But – what'll you wear?" she said tentatively, not yet taking the shirt.

"Oh I'm quite resistant to cold temperatures, I once went scuba diving in the North Atlantic. Nothing adeptly prepares you for cold like subzero scuba-diving I assure you," he held the shirt out further for her to take.

"Oh Professor," a smile graced her lips as she took the shirt. "Thank you," she said smiling for the first time that day as far as she could remember. "Just give me a moment," she said as she slipped he straps of her dress over her shoulders.

The Professor quickly turned his back to her as she began to change. Unfortunately for him, her shadow revealed exactly what she was doing on the cave wall the Professor had been staring at. He felt himself short of breath as she slipped the gown down her slender frame to her waist, knowing if he were turn around that he would see her completely bare from the waist up. He gulped. _Stop such lascivious, obscene thoughts, _he scolded himself. _You're a man of science, not some lecherous peeping tom._ He was sweating profusely now he noticed._ Why? It's perfectly natural, you of all people should know that _another voice in his head contradicted him.

He was relieved when she announced he could turn around. But as soon as he did he regretted this. The white shirt he had given to her was clinging to her body in all the right – well in this case – wrong places. He averted his eyes and took a seat on the cave floor, crossing his legs as an uncomfortable heat spread lower on his body. She took a seat on a rock next to him again and put her arms around herself, shivering a little as she did so.

"Normally," the Professor started determined not to look at her as he said it. "I'd have advised us to – remove any wet clothing – but seeing as we've got nothing else – it would not be advisable."

"Well," she said in a somewhat breathy voice. It reminded him of the Ginger he knew all too well. "Perhaps we could cuddle and use body heat to keep warm," she suggested.

"Um – I suppose that would technically be advantageous," he didn't finish because she began to slide on the floor and wrap her arms around his middle. She nestled her head against his shoulder. The Professor stared at her a moment before awkwardly putting his arms around her. Was she not phased at all by the fact he had no shirt and hers was completely soaked?

But it certainly did not seem to phase her, she seemed rather content by the process. It seemed like they were there for hours, the light of the torch growing ever more dim as it burned down the torch. Ginger was humming lowly under her breath, very slow, ballad type songs. She didn't actually speak again until much later.

"Professor," she said breaking the silence. "Do you think if we don't ever get rescued – we'll be able still lead – normal lives?" she said.

"We've been doing all right so far, at least I like to think so," he said seeming pleased with himself.

"Yes I know, but what about – well what about things like…well like careers and…and," she paused a moment. "Marriage and children? Could we have that too?" she asked chancing to look up at him. The Professor didn't want to tell her that in truth children were definitely possible in their current situation.

"Well I don't suppose careers are completely out of the question, though the Howells are the only ones with any actual money and Mr. Howell is quite unwilling to share his wealth. I suppose we could have another source of currency, and we could use it in our services. As for the uh rest," he said nervously. "I suppose since the Skipper can technically perform a marriage – but it seems that um…well there's a limited supply of available men of course. The Skipper is probably a bit old for you, and Gilligan a little young – "

"What about you?" she interrupted. The Professor starred at her shocked.

"Well I suppose I might be an appropriate age, but um," he stopped. If he still had his shirt he would have yanked at the collar by now. It was suddenly getting very hot.

"But that's it, isn't it," Ginger said flatly, frowning and now looking at the cave wall.

"Wh-What do you mean, that's it?" he stuttered as she pushed herself away from him to look at him properly.

"I mean that's all. There's no other reason why you could marry me right?" she had removed her arms and put them on her hips. "Don't you find me attractive?" she asked, looking hurt.

"I – I, of course I do! You're…well you're one of the most physically appealing women I've ever met," he stammered, feeling like his air had been constricted by massive weight on his chest. Ginger did not look satisfied by this answer. "That is to say…you're…you're very beautiful," he got out.

"But I'm not smart enough for you?" she was quick to jump on him.

"Oh Ginger for heaven sakes! Intelligence is all relative! For instance you're extraordinarily perceptive with amazing social grace, something I lack completely. Just because one does not become a Professor does not make one intellectually inferior on any level. Everyone has a kind of intelligence, even Gilligan. His simplicity often is so poignant it is able to smooth complexities made by the pettiness and corruption of human existence." He had often been confronted with this kind of statement so he had been quite adequately prepared with an answer. He had been so wrapped up in it, in fact, that he didn't even realize he was now standing.

"So what is it then?" she said as she too got to her feet.

"What is it what? Ginger, what is this all about?" he said facing her now. "What's going on?"

"I'll tell you what," she said walking past him now to lean on the wall of the cave. Ginger remembered her dream from earlier and Ginger was very careful not to ignore the messages of dreams. She had to tell him before something horrible happened. Certainly, it was she who was going to have to make the first step if her fairy tale romance was ever going to become a reality. It was now or never. "I'm in love with you. For months and months, I've been trying to get your attention but it's like you're –you're a eunuch or something," she said exasperated. She looked back to see the Professor looking as though he had been hit over the head with a mallet.

"You're – you're what?" he said, voice breaking as he did so.

" Oh you stupid man," she sighed. "I said I'm in love with you, that's all," and as to emphasize this she waved her hand as if swatting a fly. "No big deal, I suppose," she said as she sat down slowly, looking as though she was holding in tears.

"I don't understand – how – how…"

"How? How do you think it usually happens?" she shot him an angry look. "Oh, at first it started out with just admiration and intrigue, but kissing you, every time it felt less and less like acting, and more and more natural. It felt right for once, and believe me, when one kiss feels differently from all the rest it must mean something," giving him a meaningful look. He returned this with a somewhat miffed expression, as thinking of all the men she kissed was extremely disturbing. Ginger seemed to understand this and continued.

"Every time you asked me to help you I felt butterflies in my stomach. Every time I was frightened you were there. You always treated me like a person and not some sort of thing for your amusement. And I guess I've grown to care about you a lot. Sometimes its so overwhelming, it actually hurts." She bit her lip as she unconsciously put her hand over her heart. "It was just as the Wizard said," she stated quietly. 'Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable'." She put her head in her hands and sighed. She couldn't remember ever feeling so vulnerable in her entire life. She also knew the whole thing probably sounded entirely dramatic, but she had never felt more genuine in her life. Was it just her nature to express emotions at their pinnacle, at their absolute height?

The Professor stood shell-shocked completely lost for words. Was it possible the most beautiful woman he'd ever come in contact with could possibly love him? Was this another one of Ginger's dramatic performances? He scratched his head and then promptly pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. What he said to evoke such a response from her?

"Ginger – I," but he couldn't possibly think of what to say. Was he supposed to tell her he loved her too? He had spent a long time feeling that love was just a word English majors tossed around to describe the natural process of procreation and he wasn't sure how anything could be so universal yet so different to every individual. Initially his attraction to Ginger had been to say the least – very physical, but it seemed different now. After the initial magnitude of her beauty he had grown accustomed to, and once he stopped trembling whenever she approached him and she began to shed the layers of glamour girl he found he just enjoyed her company. Was that love? More importantly was it love for him? Surely there must be more to it than that. In fact wasn't there more? Didn't he seem to lift a few inches when she sat next to him at meals? Didn't he stand close to her just to smell her perfume? Didn't he find he'd do anything for her when she asked and never needed to be persuaded? Surely that said something in itself, didn't it?

"Ginger," he started again, this time cautiously approaching her. But she stood up abruptly and held at her hand.

"Forget it," she crossed the cave without looking at him. "It was stupid."

"You think that it's stupid to care about someone so deeply?"

"No, just to tell them," she resigned.

"Ginger, please listen to me," he grabbed her wrist trying to get her to turn around and look him. She didn't completely refuse, turning her head slightly when she felt their skin make contact.

"What?"

He took a deep breath. It was now or never. "This is really hard for me to say. You know how I am. I am comfortable in the realms in the explainable and reasonable. And well this – all this – is anything but. That is it's completely unpredictable and I've never been a situation where I couldn't make a pattern from something. But this…well when I first met you I was very…well attracted to you," he averted his eyes as he felt a blush creep up his neck. "I had never met such a beautiful woman before and I got nervous and used to shake when you approached me. And for a long I convinced myself that that was it. I was physically attracted to you because that is how evolution had made it so. But I…well I find that I just like to hear you talk and be near you and," he was beginning to lose his nerve now. "Well what I guess I mean is that I…I…I care about you a great deal and I've harbored," he looked up at the ceiling as though praying for some kind of grace. "feelings, for you since…well that is…for quite some time now." He let out a breath. _Heavens_, he thought. _When she says it sounds like music and me – _he put a hand to his forehead.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I – I think it's love," he let his shoulders fall. He searched her eyes for something. Shouldn't she have flung her arms around him about now? Wasn't that how it went in the movies? He stood there apprehensively waiting for her to say something.

"Well if you want to find out for sure," her face remained impassive as she said this. "Kiss me."

"How will – "

"You'll know. It's how I knew I loved you."

"But -"

"A kiss is one of the most personal forms of intimacy. If it's right you can feel it," she said looking down to examine her nails. "Of course if you can't then your answer is – "

The words died on her lips as his gently, but firmly on her own. He was nervous, that much was obvious, he was shaking. Was it kissing her or finding out the truth that scared him more? It had been a few seconds of a stagnant, but quite sweet lip lock between them persisted when something seemed to change. In one sudden moment the Professor seized Ginger's shoulders and pulled her in as close as humanly possibly. Perhaps just the shock of the gesture, or the suddenness allowed for a small gasp to escape Ginger, but it was enough. The Professor, with expertise he didn't even know he had, excellently navigated the cavern of her mouth with his tongue. Oddly enough not a single thought of the swapping of bacteria seemed to enter his mind even. All he knew was she was with him, as close as a human could be short of perhaps nuclear fusion, and she wanted him, for by now she seemed to have recovered and had locked her arms around his neck, kissing with equal intensity. His hands began to slide down her arms and found solace on her trim waist. But perhaps years of zero intimacy with a woman had awoken something in him, for he could not help but let his hands wander. Ginger didn't seem to notice though, she was twirling strands of his hair between her fingers now, the other hand on his bare chest.

"Ginger," he whispered hoarsely when she removed her lips to gently kiss his jaw line. "Hmm?" she said, but she sounded more like she was only half listening.

"You were – right." He seemed sort of shocked, and examined the situation. It had hit him, that he never wanted his lips to touch anyone else's but hers, and if he could not be with her always he would surely die. Strangely these thoughts did not seem corny, mushy or absurd at all as they would have to the man who had gotten on the Minnow for a three-hour tour. She changed him. But not in a way a woman molds a man to fit her liking, her love had changed him. She did more than open his mind, but opened his heart as well.

"Ginger I - " but she silenced him with a finger to his lips.

"Listen! Do you hear that?" The Professor strained his ear but could ear only the sound of her breathing and his heart pounding in his chest. He was certain she could hear it too.

"What, I don't hear anything."

"Exactly! Come on!" she took his hand and began to lead him to the entrance of the cave. When they reached their destination they were both surprised to find the horrible wind had evaporated into a light summer breeze, the rain now dripped from only the branches and leaves, the darkness penetrated by beautiful rays of sun rise. The storm was over. It was a new day.

...

"Mary Ann," a voice called as though shouting at her from the end of a long tunnel. Mary Ann could only see darkness, though she felt warmth on her face. She blinked her eyes. She had not even remembered closing her eyes, let alone falling asleep. Slowly an image came into view, a young man in a sailors hat was illuminated by a golden light.

"Am I dead?" she was surprised to hear own voice for some reason. It sounded raw and rough as if she had not spoken in quite a while.

"Well if you are you must be a zombie," replied the young man, laughing as he said so. "But I've got say, you're one of the nicest looking zombies I've ever seen!" he smiled. He looked angelic in the light surrounding his face.

"Gilligan?" Mary Ann smile split across her face as recognition dawned on her. She propelled herself upwards and wrapped her arms around the very startled first mate. She used so much momentum to get her body off the ground she knocked him over and was now laying on top of him, merely snuggling her head in his chest.

"Nice to see you too Mary Ann," he said as he awkwardly patted her back. "I wonder what's got into her," he said to himself trying to push himself upwards with her still attached.

"I'm just so glad you're all right!" she said pulling away to look at him.

"Well I'm glad you're all right too," he said beaming back. "Can I get up now?" he asked giving her a sort of lopsided grin.

"Oh yes, yes of course," she said propping herself up on her hands and then backing down off of him. As the two youngest castaways got to their feet, Mary Ann took in the scene. She had been lying at the foot of the tunnel, where beautiful rays of sunlight filled up the otherwise empty hole. She saw the Skipper above her, his feet dangling over the hole and she could hear not too far away the sounds of Lovey and Thurston Howell talking.

"Oh Gilligan," Mary Ann said suddenly. "What happened? Is everyone all right? Did Ginger and the Professor ever come back?"

"Well we were all huddled in that tunnel down there, you remember right? And you sort of fell asleep on me," he grabbed his arm and began to shift his weight as though he were a little uncomfortable with something.

"Oh I'm so sorry Gilligan. I didn't mean to," she said in earnest.

"That's all right Mary Ann. Your hair smelled real nice anyway," he smiled, then faltered as though perhaps he had not meant to say that out loud. "Anyway," he continued. "We just waited until the storm ended and that's basically all."

"Really? That's it? You mean everyone is ok?" Gilligan shifted his gaze. "What? What happened?" she begged rushing forward grabbing his skinny arm.

"Well," he said in a high, sort of pubescent teenager-like voice. "Ginger and the Professor still haven't shown up. We were going to organize a search once you woke up."

"Well come on!" she said grabbing his hand pulling him towards the ladder. "We've got to find them!"

"That won't be necessary Mary Ann, we're just fine." Mary Ann looked up at the sound of the voice to find the Professor and Ginger standing at the top of the hole. She saw Mrs. Howell rush forward and embrace Ginger, while Mr. Howell went on around them to shake the Professor's hand.

"Well done old boy, well done!" he said rigorously shaking the Professor's hand. "I always knew you could do it lad."

"But Mr. Howell, didn't you say last night that you were sure the Professor had about as much chance of finding Ginger as me winning the Nobel – " Mr. Howell started coughing extremely loudly that silenced Gilligan abruptly.

"Well come on! Get out of that hole you two! We've got celebrating to do!" The Skipper shouted down to them. "Unless you want to stay down there all day, that's fine by me," Gilligan did not see him wink at the others.

"I sure don't, it's dirty and buggy down here," Gilligan said scrambling for the ladder. Mary Ann sighed. She wouldn't have minded too much if she had to stay down there.

"Oh Ginger," Mary Ann exclaimed as she caught sight of her friend, emerging from the hole, helped along by the Skipper. "What on Earth happened to your dress? Why are you wearing the Professor's shirt? What happened to you two?"

The Professor and Ginger exchanged looks and silently agreed to keep the nature of their excursion confidential for the time being.

"Well," Ginger said, pulling the Professor's shirt a little tighter around her shoulders. "Let's just say it would've made one heck of a movie."


End file.
